


The In-Between Days

by shellshocked



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellshocked/pseuds/shellshocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, when he travels alone, the Doctor can't bear the silence.The TARDIS understands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The In-Between Days

The Doctor wandered the halls of the TARDIS. She knew he was hurting after the loss of Rose, knew he was beating himself up - if only, if only. She rearranged her layout, just slightly, until he found himself standing in front of a door he hasn't opened in a very long time. His hand settled on the doorknob, shaking a little. He knew what was in here. He was hesitant to open it. It warmed under his touch, the TARDIS' gentle brush of his mind reassuring. Go on, she whispered, and she used the Gallifreyan name he hasn't spoken for centuries. It's okay.

Against his better judgement, he found himself twisting the knob, pushing the wooden door inwards. The room was exactly as he left it. A plush blue carpet covered the floor. There was a white bed on the left wall with a dark wooden headboard and a surplus of plush pillows. On the far wall there were two dark-wooded bookshelves holding a mixed collection of childrens' books and keepsakes. Here there were two windows, and although he knew that it was just a projection of the past, he could look out and sees Gallifrey as it was when he was a child: the rich red of the sky, the long grasses of the mountain fields, the birds soaring out into the distance.

For the first time since before the Time War, he didn't try to stop it. Numbly, he crossed to the bed, lay down on it, picked up a toy he used to sleep with, curled around himself. He was a little boy again, a half-human child mocked and tormented for the things that differentiated him from his Gallifreyan peers, crying for the normalcy of their lives, the normalcy he'd never have. He cried for everything he'd lost on his own world, everything he'd lost on Rose's, and everything he could never have.

The TARDIS, for her part, dimmed the lights and touched his mind, the phantom of a hand stroking his back, whispering to him, calming him. Eventually (hours later? days?) the tears subsided and he breathed in, deep and slow. He was still sad, will always be sad, but it didn't control him anymore. He'd accepted it. He still carried it with him, but his back had stopped aching under the pressure and when he breathed in, his lungs filled all the way, deep and steady and sure.

He sent an appreciative, embarrassed _Thank you_ in the way of the TARDIS, and she responded with a mental caress. She was his, always and forever. When he made his way back to the console room, he flipped a few switches, tossed a few levers. He didn't really care where he was going. The TARDIS would take care of that for him, send him wherever he was needed most. The Doctor was always needed.

He landed, saw the coordinates: modern-day London. He closed his eyes, swallowed a deep breath, and pushed out onto the street.


End file.
